


Open Doors Open Ended

by faithtrustozdust



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Underage Drinking, and then they kiss because of course they do, feat. minor appearances from joe and andy, really this is just patrick being introspective on his and pete's realtionship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithtrustozdust/pseuds/faithtrustozdust
Summary: Pete Wentz is an attention whore. Patrick stump is caught in his tidal wave. Maybe he doesn't mind.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Open Doors Open Ended

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in two hours while procrastinating doing my (very late) homework. I haven't written any fic in years and have never published anything so I hope you appreciate it, I'd appreciate any critique as I'm super rusty!! I was watching an old performance of Saturday from 2003 and feeling nostalgic, and this is what came out of it.

Pete Wentz is an attention whore.

He told Patrick himself the first time they hung out together, just the two of them. Pete had brought Fireball and they were getting drunk off of it in Patrick’s basement. 

“You should know,” He took a large gulp out of his cup before pointing it at Patrick. “If we’re going to be friends I’m fucking intolerable. Ask my exes.”

Patrick laughed, hiccuping as he went. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh, but the warm feeling deep in his belly made everything Pete said infinitely hilarious.

“I’m serious dude.” Now Pete was in Patrick’s Face, his hands gripping Patrick’s skinny knees. He was so close Patrick could see the way his eyeliner had smudged off from where Pete had rubbed it.

“I’m an attention whore dude. I’m fucking needy as hell. I’ll be all up in your business until you want to punch my lights out.” He retreated back into his own chair, curling around his cup like a cat. Patrick shivered involuntarily.

The silence seemed like a heavy weight between them. Patrick really didn’t want to fuck this up by saying something stupid. Sure Pete Wentz was a weirdo but he was a weirdo who played in bands, cool bands no less, and liked Patrick’s voice and called him dumb nicknames like they were friends or something. He didn’t want to fuck it up, whatever it was.

Finally he managed to squeak out “I can’t throw a punch, so I think we’re good there.”

Pete’s laugh was so loud Patrick worried the neighbors would hear, but it made the warm feeling in Patrick’s stomach fill up his whole body.

Now here they were, years later, on the road so much it felt like they could never catch a breather. Patrick did end up trying to punch Pete, he tended to have that affect on people. But Pete promised him they never bruised and Joe and Andy always agreed that he deserved it, so Patrick never felt too bad.

They were driving cross country, on a shitty tour with shitty bands in a shitty van Joe had somehow gotten for them. Even when he was driving, Pete would figure out a way to keep Patrick up and talking to him through the long nights. He’d get Patrick started on ranting about nerdy music things, or discussing new songs they were working on, or he’d start a dumb argument about if the original Star Wars movies or the prequels were better. 

If anyone asked Patrick why Pete did this, he would have answered because Pete’s biggest fear was loneliness. Anyone could see that. His long string of exes was enough proof.

Currently he was dating a girl named Amanda? Anna? Elena? Patrick had seen her once when he walked in on them making out in the back of the van. He was looking for a spare cord Andy needed, and opened the back door only to be greeted by Pete grabbing a handful of some chick with purple hair’s ass.

She had screamed and jumped and ended up falling on the van floor. He managed to catch Pete’s surprised “Trick! The hell?” before he turned and scurried away. His face was bright red, he could feel it in the sharp Midwestern air. It wasn’t unusual to see Pete making out with someone, but it still made Patrick jumpy every time it happened.

That night in the van (two more goddamn stops before a hotel night) Pete was talking to her on his cellphone. Patrick was sitting besides him and the space between them was littered with Pete’s spoils of war from their gas station visit. He had a bad feeling some of the more crushed skittles wouldn’t be coming out of the seat.

He’d try and ignore Pete, but if he went too long without some sign of life Pete would pelt him with more skittles. Eventually he wriggled himself so he was laid across Patrick’s lap, still on the phone whispering sweet nothings to Anna/Amanda/Elena. Absentmindedly, Patrick started stroking his hair, still listening to Bowie on his iPod. (He was going through a bit of a Bowie phase right now, but when was Patrick not going through a Bowie phase.)

It wasn’t that Patrick didn’t like Pete’s neediness or whatever. If someone got him drunk enough that he didn’t care what he said, he might say he liked it even. He liked being needed, and being needed by Pete specifically. There was a bit of a power trip in the way that Pete reached out to him, how even when he was talking on the phone with his girlfriend he still wanted to lay in Patrick's lap.

It was more than that though, but Patrick didn’t really have the words to untangle it right now. Half of him hoped he’d never find them if it meant he could keep Pete in his lap, soft and fragile.

The tour kept going. It was long and hot, even in the Midwest. The venues were shit and 7/10 times the crowd was shit but Pete still crashed into him every night like a fucking tidal wave. 

One night in North Dakota? Minnesota? Iowa? Pete just leaned against him. He didn’t move for half the song just stood there leaning on Patrick, a warm and heavy weight. (Emphasis on warm. It was hot outside and even hotter inside under the lights of the stage and Patrick could feel his shirt sticking with sweat) It wasn’t even during a particularly warm and fuzzy song, it was during fucking Tell Mick of all things. Something about singing about driving off bridges didn’t really put Patrick in a sappy mood. Still, when Pete swung off to go play at the crowd for a bit, his nerves felt like they were on fire and his t-shirt felt too restrictive.

That night, Amanda/Anna/Elena was in town and invited them to a house party one of her friends was throwing. Patrick didn’t like house parties, and he usually spent it with Andy making fun of drunk girls in high heels while Joe hung out with the stoners and Pete made out with girls (and sometimes boys) with colorful hair on couches with stuffing poking out of them.

This time, something about seeing Pete’s hand in the back pocket of his girlfriend’s jeans was setting him on edge. That and Pete’s weird behavior at the show made him jumpy. He wanted something, anything to take his mind off of Pete and his stupid girlfriend whose name he couldn’t remember.

Once inside, Andy went to the corner, where it looked like there were other loner guys with x's on their hands he could talk to. Joe made a beeline for, somewhere, wherever weed was apparently. (he had a nose for it like a bloodhound) Pete and his girlfriend headed for the kitchen, and last minute Pete grabbed Patrick;s hand yelling something about drinks and pulling him into the house.

Seriously, Patrick thought, the nerves-on-fire thing whenever Pete touched him was getting annoying. He followed him and mysterious girlfriend anyway, as if he had a choice. Pete's grip was vice-like. There was one of those weird window bar things some kitchens had and it was covered with different alcohol and mixers. A couple of guys, much older and cooler than Patrick, were in the kitchen getting more alcohol out of the fridge.

Pete grabbed something for his girlfriend, who looked at him coldly over her solo cup, before he turned and shouted to Patrick.

“For you, Trick?” He had that big goofy grin like he was the knight in shining armor rescuing Patrick from a dragon or a bad date, but instead all he was offering was shitty alcohol at a party full of people he couldn’t give two shits about.

“Beer.” Patrick shouted over the music. 

“Your wish is my command.” He shouted before yelling it to the guys in the kitchen. A minute later Patrick was holding a cold beer (At least that was going for him tonight) and then Pete was being dragged away by Anna/Amanda/Elena.

Patrick knew better than to wait for Pete or try and talk to Andy when he was with his fellow straight edged weirdos and at this point Joe was a lost cause. So he found himself a mostly empty corner of the room where there was a love seat and no couples making out in his immediate vicinity, so he settled in to nurse his beer and wait for everyone else to get bored and leave.

He’d be really mad if this was a hotel night and Pete made him go only to a shitty party only to leave him five minutes in, but after this, it would be back in the van for another long late night driving session, so he didn't mind too much. The beer was cold and burned the back of his throat and the music was alright, so could've been worse.

He must’ve drifted off, he swore he had only closed his eyes for a second, but there was something poking his shoulder and Patrick almost jumped out of his skin.

“Trick, Patrick, it’s just me.”

He managed to see Pete through the flashing lights. He looked small and crumpled. Defeated is the word his Mom would use, like Pete was a poor puppy who had lost his way.

“Can I?” Pete’s voice was small, but Patrick could still catch it through the loud music. He nodded, said yes, realized in that moment he’d say yes to whatever Pete asked him and it hit him with a sucker punch. There wasn’t time to focus though because Pete Wentz was crawling into his lap like a kitten, clinging onto Patrick’s old green t shirt.

The only thing Patrick could think to do was stroke Pete’s hair. He shook slightly, like he was crying, but he wasn’t making any noise or anything. Patrick hated crying people, they made him feel useless and as miserable as them.

Finally Pete propped his head on Patrick’s chest. His eyes were red and smudged eyeliner was everywhere. As soon as their eyes meant (Sucker punch and nerves on fire and oh shit Patrick was in trouble) Patrick looked away sheepishly.

“Ariana broke up with me.” Pete mumbled and Patrick could feel it in his chest.

“Yeah.” Is all he could say back.

“S’my fault.”

“Probably.’

“Cheated.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

“M’sorry.” 

“I know.”

Patrick kept stroking Pete's hair and he could swear he was leaning into it like a cat would. Maybe if he kept doing it he’d pur.

There’d be time later to talk and talk circles about this with Pete, he knew that. There was no reason that Patrick saw to try and kick him when he was down. Besides, Andy was better at the gentle lecturing. Patrick was acutely aware that he was still a young and dumb teenager. Pete always took him seriously though, took his advice seriously. Made him feel like he was worth listening to and all that, even when he had nothing to say.

The music kept playing in the background, but all Patrick could hear was Pete’s hushed breaths. 

Pete looked up at Patrick again, poking him in the side until Patrick looked back down again. His dark brown eyes were so...intense it made Patrick want to keep starring and look away at the same time.

“Thank you.” Pete’s voice was still small and fragile, like it took a lot of effort for him to talk. “You deal with me, everyone else is just putting up with me until I combust or something.” A pause as he buried his face in Patrick’s shirt again. “Don’t let me burn you up, Patrick. Can’t loose you.”

It was a moment before Patrick could compose words again.

“You won’t, Pete.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Another long silent moment as Pete looked up at him again and Patrick just wanted something to happen, even if it was him spontaneously combusting. At least then Pete’s eyes wouldn’t have that strange soft expression that he didn’t know what to do with.

Pete’s hand was suddenly moving towards Patrick’s face. His heart skipped a beat, he didn’t know what was happening and then Pete’s face was really close to him and then he was kissing him.

Patrick didn’t know what to do. Maybe he was spontaneously combusting because his whole body was on fire and he couldn’t move and he thought Pete tasted like cheap beer and vanilla chapstick, but he couldn’t tell and oh god Pete Wentz was fucking kissing him.

But as soon as it started it was over. (Later Patrick would tell himself it was nothing. A peck. A friendly peck. A friendly peck between bros.) Pete was smiling with his big goofy smile and getting off of Patrick like nothing happened. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet as he reached out his hand.

“Come on, Trick. Let’s find Joe and Andy so we can bounce.”

All Patrick could do was nod numbly and take Pete’s hand, who pulled him up eagerly and whisked him away into the party.

Patrick couldn’t help thinking it was a metaphor, he was either crashing under Pete’s tidal wave or being pulled by his riptide. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t really mind.


End file.
